Matthew Arnold

Now the great winds shoreward blow, / Now the salt tides seaward flow; / Now the wild white horses play, read more

Now the great winds shoreward blow, / Now the salt tides seaward flow; / Now the wild white horses play, / Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.

The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.

The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.

Youth dreams a bliss on this side of death.
It dreams a rest, if not more deep,
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Youth dreams a bliss on this side of death.
It dreams a rest, if not more deep,
More grateful than this marble sleep;
It hears a voice within it tell:
Calm's not life's crown, though calm is well.
'Tis all perhaps which man acquires,
But 'tis not what our youth desires.

Six years--six little years--six drops of time.

Six years--six little years--six drops of time.

And see all sights from pole to pole
And glance, and nod, and bustle by,
And never read more

And see all sights from pole to pole
And glance, and nod, and bustle by,
And never once possess our soul
Before we die.